


Tell Me Some Things Last

by talliabram



Series: Wounded Healer [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Healer Stiles, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Major Character Injury, Worried Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:31:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talliabram/pseuds/talliabram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stiles!” The shriek rang out through the forest like a whip cracking. “STILES!”</p><p>Derek was certain his feet didn’t touch the ground, not at the speed he was going. All he could think in the milliseconds where his feet breached the snow was that no matter how fast or how hard his legs pushed it would never be fast enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Some Things Last

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics come from the song "Heal" by Tom Odell
> 
> Part of a series but can be read separately :)

_Take my mind and take my pain,_  
_Like an empty bottle takes the rain._  
  
_And heal, heal, heal, heal._  
  
_And take my past and take my sins,_  
_Like an empty sail takes the wind._  
  
_And heal, heal, heal, heal._  
  
_And tell me some things last._  
_And tell me some things last._  
  
_Take my heart and take my hand,_  
_Like an ocean takes the dirty sands._  
_And heal, heal, hell heal!_  
  
_Take my mind and take my pain,_  
_Like an empty bottle takes the rain._  
_And heal, heal, hell heal!_  
  
_And tell me some things last._  
_And tell me some things last._  
_And tell me some things last_.  
_And tell me some things last._

 

 

“Stiles!” The shriek rang out through the forest like a whip cracking. “STILES!”

Derek was certain his feet didn’t touch the ground, not at the speed he was going. All he could think in the milliseconds where his feet breached the snow was that no matter how fast or how hard his legs pushed it would never be fast enough. He could tell something was wrong from the moment Stiles didn’t answer his cell phone. Even earlier, if he was being honest with himself. He had felt a sinking in his stomach unlike anything he’d felt before, but had elected to ignore it, dismissing it as his own paranoia. Now he knew for certain and he cursed every second he wasted doubting the feeling. 

Derek prayed that the mate bond would lead him to Stiles. The bond was new and tentative, and while there was undoubtedly a link between them, he worried now that it wouldn’t be enough. Even worse was the feeling that as he ran through the snow drenched forest, the link grew weaker. It didn’t take a genius to know the reason: the person on the other end was fading, and the bond along with him. 

At last he spotted a body on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. He was shirtless and half-buried in crimson snow, injuries becoming increasingly gruesome the closer Derek looked. Stiles’ arms were crossed around his torso, clearly in a desperate attempt to keep the blood in and Derek wasn’t sure he wanted to know what horrors lay beneath the pale limbs. 

He sprinted to the form, a howl tearing from his throat before he could stop it. The air left his lungs in a rush as he fell beside the broken body of the boy he loved, and gingerly lifted him from the ground. He remembered being told once that you shouldn’t move someone who has been badly injured, but the thought of leaving him lying there was impossible. 

With the body in his arms, he sprinted towards his car. Stiles was freezing in Derek’s arms, and the werewolf was torn between clutching him tighter to preserve the warmth, and fear of jostling him and thus hurting him more. His legs felt numb as they pushed harder on the ground, each step making him once more aware that he would still never make it to his car as fast as he wanted to -as fast as Stiles needed him to. 

Even as he focused on running, he couldn’t help but notice how blue Stiles’ lips were, or how labored his breathing sounded. It was Stiles who knew how to fix these situations, Stiles who knew what to do when people were hurt, and Derek felt utterly useless. 

Derek placed Stiles into the seat as gently as he could and buckled him in. He had to actively force himself not to flinch away from the icy cold of Stiles’ skin as his knuckles grazed the younger man’s chest. To Derek’s relief, there was a blanket in the back of the car. He hastily tucked it around Stiles before jumping into the driver’s seat, turning the heat as high as it would go, and forcing the car away from the forest as fast as sanity would allow. 

 

“Stiles, Stiles can you hear me?” Derek asked, struggling to keep his eyes on the road when all he wanted was to look at the man he loved. “Stiles, please, if you care about me at all then say something.” 

Derek felt a tug within him and wondered for the millionth time at the power of the bond, this wonder increased as Stiles’ eyes began to twitch and he made his slow journey back to consciousness. The logical part of Stiles’ brain wanted to panic, he was clearly in an unknown location with massive wounds and in unbelievable pain -yet something told him he was safe now.  

“Der’k where?” Stiles asked finally, struggling to get the words out of his lips. 

“We’re in my car, heading as far from that damn forest as possible.” Stiles nodded slowly, as though the cold had frozen the gears in his head and he had to work to thaw them and process the information. At last he said,

“Too far.” It was a panicked statement, and one Derek had been contemplating since the second he had Stiles’ body in his arms.

“I know. We won’t make it back to Beacon Hills fast enough, even the nearest hospital is a stretch I’m not comfortable attempting.” Stiles nodded his slow nod again and Derek felt the fear in him double -this was not the Stiles he knew. He had expected ideas or, at the very least, argument that he wasn’t that bad and could totally make it to the hospital, but instead he got the slow nodding that put Derek’s instincts on red alert. “Is there any magic you can do? Anything you can do to heal yourself?”

“Too weak.” Derek had expected as much, but it was worth a try. 

“Well, I guess that means it’s up to me.” Derek had hoped it would come out like a joke, but instead it sounded like he was trying to build himself up to it. 

“Sorry.” And with that, Stiles’ eyes began to drift closed once more. It didn’t matter how many times Derek screamed his name or tugged at the bond, Stiles was out and Derek was completely terrified. 

Derek drove faster than logic permitted, all the while shouting at Stiles to wake up. He pulled into the first building they approached, a motel that didn’t look nearly as sketchy as it could have. It took everything in him not to shout and breakdown at the owner as he hurriedly paid for a room and made the necessary small talk to avoid arousing suspicion. At last it was done and he sprinted back to his car for Stiles and the first aid kit.  

 

When they entered the small room, Derek gently placed Stiles on the hard bed, and then immediately began rifling through the first aid kit. He was overcome with relief and gratitude as he opened it to reveal an almost entirely-full kit, silently thanking Stiles for forcing them all to keep kits in their cars as well as keeping them stocked himself. 

The warmth of the room had a positive effect on Stiles, and once again his eyes began to flutter open. Derek began speaking the moment he noticed and hoped that his voice would help bring Stiles back to awareness. 

“I think- I think I should get you warm first.” Though he meant it to sound strong, it was clearly a question. Stiles was the one who knew what to do, so Derek figured maybe he could guide him through it somehow. Stiles nodded, slightly faster than before, and Derek carefully lifted Stiles up so he could place another blanket beneath him and then wrap it around. 

Stiles’ back was covered in darkening bruises, but Derek was relieved to see that there were no actual cuts on that side of him. Everyone knew that it was hypothermia 101 to remove wet clothes from the victim, but that didn’t stop the flush of red on Derek’s cheeks as he carefully eased Stiles’ wet pants off. It was a testament to the severity of the situation that Stiles didn’t resist or even comment on what was happening. He then tried to lift Stiles’ arms from his torso, but the younger man flinched at the touch. 

“Stiles,” Derek whimpered, sounding almost as hurt as Stiles felt, “let me help.”

“‘s nothing.” Stiles said through gritted teeth. 

“Stiles, please. You’ve lost a lot of blood and I think it’s coming from there, I need to look and assess the damage. Please,” he begged, “you can trust me.” 

“I know I can,” The desperation in Derek’s voice brought Stiles back into consciousness with more strength than he thought possible. He tried to fill his voice with as much sincerity as was humanly possible as he said, “I just, I don’t want you to see this...” 

“You’ve seen all of us looking this bad and worse! You have to let me help, if not for you then do it for me, I need this. I need to make sure you are ok.” 

Stiles clenched and unclenched his jaw as he tried to come up with an alternative, but soon gave up and nodded, carefully pulling his arms away from his torso. The feeling of the dried blood pulling at his wounds caused Stiles’ eyes to brim with tears as he held back a groan. Derek wasn’t as successful and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a low gasp as he took in the shredded skin on the boy he loved. The blood seemed so dark against Stiles’ pale skin that it almost looked unreal, like some sort of overdone movie gore. 

“I’m so sorry.” Were the first words out of Derek’s mouth, “I’m so so sorry. I should have been there to protect you, I should have never left your side, I should have listened to my instincts telling me something was wrong, this is all my fault. I’m sorry...” He kept going, the words spinning in circles as his panic mounted. 

“Shhh. Don’t say that. It’s not. I should have been able to protect myself. And anyway, it’s fine... I’m fine.” But even as he said it, he was hyperaware of the fact that he was likely hypothermic and that he was even conscious in and of itself was a miracle given the amount of blood he’d lost.

“What do I do? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” Derek was practically pleading with him, tears brimming at his eyes and threatening to fall. 

“Do you know how to do stitches?” Stiles asked carefully. 

“I do- or at least, I did. Everyone in the pack had to learn back when we had human members.” 

“Ok, first you have to clean the area.” Stiles was desperately trying to keep it clinical, as though this wasn’t the aftermath of an attack, but just a normal medical thing on another person that he happened to be talking Derek through. Derek simply nodded, preparing himself for everything he knew was coming. 

He did as he was told, carefully wiping off layer after layer of blood. Whenever he reached an especially deep cut Stiles would moan, leaving Derek unsure whether he should be relieved that Stiles was still awake or sobbing at the situation they were in. 

Derek was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice that the cuts were making a pattern until he paused for a minute to open a new pack of wipes. Once he leaned back he could see it, the nasty red gashes came together to form a spiral across the entirety of Stiles’ torso. Derek could barely make out the scars from the time Stiles had saved his life, each one in some way covered by the gory mark of revenge.  

“Stiles,” Derek gasped, “Who did this?”

“I don’t know, does it matter?” Stiles asked through gritted teeth, forcing himself to remain conscious. 

“Of course it matters!” And then sudden realization hit him with full force and it took everything in him not to double over with the shock of it. “It was me. I did this. The message is for me.”

“No, Derek. This is not your fault, they did this.”  

But Derek couldn’t hear him over the chaos happening in his own brain. The barely suppressed panic of moments ago came back with full force and his mind spiraled into itself. He searched for any enemies he may have made over the years and as the numbers grew his breath became shallower until he was practically hyperventilating. And then his mind flipped through all of the people he’d hurt, the people he’d gotten killed: Erica, Boyd, Paige, his family... And it was too much. Tears sprang from his eyes and he couldn’t even tell if he was breathing anymore given how light his head felt. 

Then suddenly an icy hand gripped his face, anchoring him back to Earth. Stiles forced Derek’s head down and angled it towards him until Derek had no option but to look into his eyes. 

“Derek, I want you to listen to me,” Despite having been on the brink of unconsciousness only moments before, Stiles’ eyes had never looked more awake to Derek. “This was not your fault. No matter what you did in the past or what you blame yourself for, this one is not on you.”

Derek nodded, forcing himself back under control. Even if he didn’t believe what Stiles was saying, he knew there were more important things to deal with. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking one last question,

“Is this what you were hiding before?” The moment suddenly making more sense. 

 “I didn’t want to hurt you.” Stiles said in almost a whisper. Derek swallowed thickly and with steady control continued to clean the gashes. Now when Stiles hissed in pain Derek no longer hurt from pity, but from guilt. Each wince was its own missile in the hands of Derek’s mounting self-hatred. 

Eventually, the cuts were as clean as they were going to get and, with a heavy pit in his stomach, Derek threaded the first needle. 

“We don’t have any painkillers because of the werewolf pain sucking -thing, but I’ve got you.” 

He placed one hand on Stiles’ side, as close as he could get to the wound without touching it. With the other hand he attempted to sew the frayed skin back together. 

It was slow work, Derek’s hand shook as he attempted to simultaneously take Stiles’ pain and stitch up the scarlet-colored spiral. They had to take a few breaks, sometimes for Derek to get a grip, and sometimes for Stiles to get the room to stop spinning. The entire time, Derek was acutely aware of the icy temperature of Stiles’ skin. More than once he wanted to stop and find a way to get Stiles warmer, but the blood was coming faster and he wasn’t sure at what point blood loss became critical, however he had a feeling they weren’t far off. 

Derek let go of a tight breath as he tied off the last stitch and examined his handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse. More importantly, the bleeding had slowed significantly and once a bandage had been applied, Derek felt more confident that at the very least, his mate would not bleed out on him in a shitty motel room. Still, the temperature thing was moving far past worrying and entering panic territory. 

“Shouldn’t you be shivering by now?” 

Stiles made a face somewhere between stoic and terrified. It was not a comforting look and Derek felt his stomach plummet even further. He desperately combed through the first aid kit until at last he landed on the object of his search -a thermometer. 

“Hold this under your tongue, ok? I’m going to go warm up some washcloths.” 

Stiles complied with little coercion, something that would make Derek even more terrified if it were possible. He hated to leave Stiles alone for even a second, but he knew that if he didn’t do something fast, things could get a lot worse. He frantically stuck all the washcloths he could find beneath the faucet and cursed silently as the water took eternities to heat up. 

 

When Derek was finally back at Stiles’ side, he took the thermometer and gasped. 

“Right, last time I checked we were aiming for 98.6... this is 84.5. Don’t worry though, it’s going to be fine. I got this. Ok, this might burn a little, but we need to get you warmed up.” If Stiles had been more conscious he would have been amused by the timid uncertainty in Derek’s voice. If anything, the awkward rambling during difficult situations sounded more like Stiles than the werewolf. 

Derek was shocked at how quickly the memories of wilderness training flooded back to him. Not everything, obviously, but enough for the time being. He distinctly recalled his mother telling him that in the event of hypothermia in the human pack members, hot compresses should be applied to the armpits, groin, and neck of the person affected. This was easier said than done as Stiles flinched away from the heat caused by Derek attempting to place a washcloth beside his neck. 

“Come on Stiles, work with me man, you need to get warm and this is the best way to do it.”

“‘S too hot.”

“I know buddy, but it will help, I promise. I don’t think I should take any pain just yet, it might make it hard to determine if you’re getting better...” 

He tried again to place the compress where it was meant to go, but again Stiles darted out of his grasp, using as much strength as possible to avoid Derek’s reach. 

“Stiles, please don’t make me hold you down. I know you hate this, but I hate it too - I hate feeling like I’m hurting you, please please help me.” Derek was begging and even in his semi-delirious state, Stiles would do anything to make the sad noise stop. 

Stiles took a deep breath and forced his body to remain rigid as Derek applied washcloth after washcloth, each one feeling like a branding iron against Stiles’ frozen skin. With each placement, Derek said a million silent apologies. The final one went over the groin and Derek forced himself to look away as a small flood of tears escaped Stiles eyes. 

“That’s it, that’s the last one. You just need to stay still and let them work, I’ll take your temperature again in a few minutes to see if it’s working.”Stiles nodded in response, forcing his face to relax from the grimace it was in. 

The minutes passed slowly as Derek struggled to see what steps he needed to take next while simultaneously trying to push away the knowledge that Stiles’ pain was his fault. After five minutes passed, Derek couldn’t stand waiting any longer and gently coerced the thermometer back under Stiles’ tongue. As they waited for the results, Derek noticed a change coming over Stiles. 

“You’re sweating, are you hot?” Derek asked hopefully. Stiles shook his head and the glimmer of hope Derek had felt was replaced by fear. “Then why are you sweating? Sweat.... sweat makes you colder. Stiles...” 

Derek removed the thermometer, 85.1, it had barely gone up more than half a degree. He tried to hide the fear that seized him, but noticed quickly that Stiles wasn’t even paying attention. 

“Hey, you ok?” Derek asked, gently feeling Stiles’ forehead in the vain hope that the thermometer was broken. 

“No. Gonna be sick.” The sweat started to make sense, though the new symptom did not. “Derek, I don’t wanna... can’t throw up with stitches.” 

Though the hypothermia caused his words to slur, the panic in Stiles’ voice was evident. 

“Oh god, ok, I got you. I’m going to carry you to the bathroom, try to take deep breaths, ok?” Stiles did as he was told, desperate to push away the growing mix of nausea and panic. 

Stiles was too weak to sit up on his own, so Derek laid him out on the bathroom floor before sitting and pulling the boys upper half into his lap and within easy reach of the toilet. He used one hand to stroke the healer’s forehead, and the other to grip his shoulder and urgently pull as much pain as possible. 

It wasn’t enough, and before long the panicked look on Stiles’ face gave way to full-blown terror. He lurched forward and black liquid erupted from his mouth. Derek did his best to support him, struggling to keep his torso steady in a desperate attempt not to rip the stitches. Derek knew this sight, and each flood of black reminded him of the last time the person he loved had looked so similar. 

“You will not die.” Derek said forcefully as Stiles fell back into his lap. “I won’t let it happen, do you hear me?” 

“Something’s wrong,” Stiles whispered, “I’m not getting better.” 

“Give it time, maybe it’s slower than we think. You will get better, you have to.” 

“No, I mean really wrong. Their magic, it was dark... the two sides are fighting and my body is rejecting it... but I don’t think I’m strong enough.” 

“So what do I do?”

“Need to get warm. Good magic: warm, bad magic: cold.”

“I know I have to get you warm! What do you think I’ve been doing?” 

“Warmer. Faster.” 

“It’s not safe! You could go into shock!” 

“If we don’t do anything, I’m dead.”

Derek thought that once he found Stiles he would be safe. He had stopped the bleeding, they were in a warm hotel, everything was supposed to be fine now. Instead Derek realized for the first time how serious it really was. Stiles could die, the only way to save him could potentially kill him, and Derek had to be the one to do it. 

“I guess I’ll start a bath.” Derek said hollowly, forcing himself to move against all instinct. 

“You know I love you, right?” 

“Don’t say that. Not here, not now...”

“I have to. I love you. And if this is all we get, I’m so happy you didn’t die that night in the mountains -because this was worth it.” The words were lilted and came out in pained hisses, but the impact on Derek was immediate. 

“I am so sick of saying goodbye to people, Stiles. I’m still going to tell you that I love you, because I do and you need to know that, but it isn’t goodbye. It’s a reason to fight and stay here with me, because I love you and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.” 

“I don’t want to leave.” Stiles said, his voice betraying all emotion. 

“I have you, stay with me.” Stiles nodded and Derek lifted him up and placed him into the bathtub. 

The thrashing was so immediate and intense that before Derek knew what he was doing, he was in the tub with Stiles and frantically trying to get a grip. He managed to get underneath the boy and used his arms and legs to restrain him. 

Stiles was screaming and no matter how much pain Derek took, it didn’t seem to be enough. His body twisted and spasmed beneath Derek’s tight grip, fighting to escape what felt like a pool of fire. 

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. I love you. I know it hurts, but it’s the only way. You can survive this, I know you can.” The word tumbled from Derek’s mouth as he turned the hot water back on to adjust for the dropping temperature. 

It took a while, but eventually the thrashing gave way to shivering, and that gave way to stillness. Derek was hesitant to pull the boy out of the water, worried that the second the air touched his skin the hypothermia would come back with full force. That or his body would go into shock. There had been moments in the tub where Derek felt slipping from him. He felt the shock begin to set in and desperately reached for their bond, as though he could pull Stiles back to him -and in a way he could. 

Stiles was the one to make the decision for both of them, shifting his exhausted body against Derek’s until their eyes met and saying,

“Wow, a bath together already? This seems a bit fast, but I’m into it.” His voice sounded sleepy, but no longer the worrisome, detached voice from earlier. 

“Better get used to it, I see many in our future. Though, I think we’ll be making all this noise for a different reason.”

“All it took was nearly dying to finally get a sex joke, and here I thought you just didn’t like me.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean for-” 

“I know. It’s not your fault, Derek. You have to stop blaming yourself for things you had no control over. I’m not Paige, I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Except to bed, come on, I think we both could use some sleep.” 

Derek wrapped Stiles tightly in a towel and carried him to bed, the string of objections a sign that everything was going to be ok now. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you want to follow me on Tumblr, you can find me at: keepcalmandraisechaos.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to request fics (aka please request!). Send me an ask or just write me a comment and I'd be more than happy to :)
> 
> Hours to write, but only seconds to comment :) For every comment/kudos a unicorn is born! 
> 
> -Talli


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